


The Things we Didn’t Get to See

by made_of_lions_and_wolves333



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Missing Fan Scenes (Season 8), Possible Spoilers, Stark Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 14:26:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18639940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/made_of_lions_and_wolves333/pseuds/made_of_lions_and_wolves333
Summary: 3 popular-wanted Scenes in Season 8 that didn’t happen yet (or should happen) and my personal take on each plausible outcome!1. Sansa and the Hound’s Reunion! (would it play out as expected?)2. Arya’s initial thoughts on Queen Daenerys parading around Winterfell.3. Dany meeting Ghost in Winterfell (if Jon truly had asked him to watch over Sansa or ‘anyone’s whose name is Stark’ before he left.)





	The Things we Didn’t Get to See

 

**i.**

 

Lord Royce arrives at Lord Stark’s— Lady Sansa’s private solar — shoulders squared with meaning and footsteps heavy with purpose. “My Lady,” he says patiently, his tone sounding far gentler than his large and rugged outwardly stature seems. “The rest of the Targaryen’s men are gathering in the courtyard. Some are looking for odd jobs to take in the meantime, and some are searching for wine and more bread than they already received this morning.”

Already so busy with her counting, duties, and rushing ravens out the window to send for help before war would literally fall upon their castle steps, Sansa tenses, glancing up from her paperwork. Her jaw hardens slightly. And Ghost, who has taken comfortable refuge on her bed today, comes to full attention and perks up. One short, low growl escapes him at the sound of the door creaking.

Lord Royce, in turn, minds his distance from the direwolf’s curled lips respectfully, but he’s not afraid, for he is clearly trusted by House Stark. Usually, Ghost is a quiet beast. Never makes a sound. But it’s clear that he must be sensing the change in tone, or the tensions quietly festering in her.

Not missing another beat, Sansa simply stands from her desk, placing the current scroll in her hand aside. “Thank you, Lord Royce.”

The noble lord bows his head at her, then semi-humorously at Ghost, before strutting away.

Sansa walks the halls of her home as she always does, in memory of her family and with newfound confidence, rounding corners at her own leisure. Ghost obviously decided to trail after her, not wanting to be left in the bedchambers completely disregarded and alone— a feeling which Sansa understands better than most— and for that, she grants him a swift stroke down his back. Girl and direwolf keep a normal pace with each other until Sansa stops abruptly, spotting the familiar shape of The Hound of all people.

She’s emerging under one archway with Ghost and Sandor’s passing the one opposite of her. What are the odds they’d come face to face like this, in this precise moment, crossing paths? It almost feels like meeting him for the first time.

Seeing him looming there however, does nothing. She merely regards him, looking directly at him for two long silent moments, and she easily moves on past him. Ghost does not even care The Hound is there either. He trots ahead to wait for her outside.

She can feel Sandor staring and turning with her as she follows the direwolf.

“So you’ve got nothin’ to say for once, pretty little bird?”

“I am not my sister. We are not friends.” Sansa sighs, pauses, and she spares him one quick glance backward. “And you don’t get to call me that anymore, understood?”

Sansa _knew_ he was here in the North with them all, noticed him riding into Winterfell’s walls behind Daenerys’ caravan herself. Though between worrying for her siblings’ safety and making sure their people are as supplied as they can be for the long Winter ahead of them… Sansa hardly remembered to ask anything about him at all. In fact, The Hound wasn’t even near the top of her list of her own concerns.

“Is that an order?”

“Yes,” she says.

His teasing sneer falters, almost as if her reply stung him right in the ribs. “… Well, I see it didn’t take you long to go back to your old spoiled ways once you reached Winterfell. You’re still keeping yourself pretty for the stupid Northern lords’ amusement, I suppose?”

“I can see you’re still a miserable old dog.” Sansa visibly grows colder, harder, and her voice is all fluid steel and ice. There is no little bird in sight, but a she-wolf, wiser and far more formidable in her own right. “And you don’t scare me. Now, if I were you, I’d get back to whatever dull task your Dragon Lady graciously gave you today before she breathes fire for your tardiness. I have work to do.”

She walks away, without a doubt, leaving The Hound just where he stood, most likely with his tail tucked between his legs.

They scarcely ever speak ever again afterwards.

 

ii.

 

From the shadows below and the dark corners of the castle higher up, Arya continues to spy on Daenerys.

Fewer and fewer smallfolk were lining up and down the streets to get a decent look at this supposed Savior Queen. In fact, details such as this were not hard to miss...

Whenever Daenerys strolls into their view, the Northern people would either ignore her presence or recoil from her reach. Judging from their glowering faces aimed at her back, no one else wants her here.

To Arya, Jon’s new Queen is just another pretty girl wearing a pretty dress, trying desperately to act more important than she truly is. No matter how much Arya's heart leapt for Jon and his happiness, Sansa is right to be suspicious of this girl’s hold on him, as well as her intensions of proclaiming herself as Queen of Everyone and Everything. She even warns Gendry once in private to be as brief and brisk as possible if he ever found himself stuck in Daenerys’ company somehow, since really, deep down, they’re not supposed be her friend. The North has its own thriving independence and old loyalties, and not even Daenerys Targaryen is entitled to take any of it away.

Daenerys’ two dragons flying overhead are astonishing at first sight, but then, even that got old quickly after seeing them flying back and forth from the towers to the farmlands every single morning, stealing more goats by the day. Arya also learns that she doesn’t care too much for the sounds the lizards make. They’re loud and gruff, and snort and gurgle a lot. It’s nothing like the smooth howl of a wolf. The dragons even reek of ash and blood if one flew close enough to the ground and its scent would linger in the air.

Still, Daenerys still rambles on and on about her titles and victories down in the Square and in the corridors, demanding respect and expecting unconditional love and support from a country she never lived in, a country with even older gods she doesn't believe in.

Arya comes to fully understand Sansa’s deep-seeded resentment for this girl. Sansa had her pegged from the first day they arrived, politically and personally.

For someone who calls herself “the Breaker of Chains,” Daenerys surely enjoys binding people to her rules just so she can threaten them to obey her every whim and desire.

Too bad. It’s a shame that Daenerys doesn’t seem to realize it yet, that pushing a pack of wolves into a corner and bullying its members to ‘bend the knee’ will only end badly for her.

 

iii.

 

After Theon Greyjoy’s return to Winterfell and Jon’s lack of affection leaves Dany to her own council and company once again, she wanders the Wood for a moment. Her nerves are still rattled by Lady Sansa’s questions, and those eyes of hers, sharp and blue and piercing. Attempting to bond with her had been a good suggestion to Jorah’s credit, but the result of it was disastrous.

Lady Sansa is clearly a problem. A disrespectful and rude little sister who’s beyond saving. Sansa has left the Hall _before_ she did, twice, and Dany’s convinced the Stark daughters certainly are not to be trusted now.

Yes, Jon has mentioned more than once that they have another sister — somewhere at home — named Arya Stark. But, Dany’s hope of meeting Arya herself and gaining at least one more compliant and dutiful Stark ally fighting for her alongside Jon, was unfortunately fleeting. It’s been a few days since they’ve come to the North’s aid, and Dany still hasn’t even seen this mysterious, missing sister of Jon’s up close. Dany figures at this point, Arya will not choose her over Lady Sansa. Moreover, Arya not bothering to greet them at the gates and swear her loyalty to Dany the first day was rather telling in itself. 

Sighing, Dany tries to keep her boiling anger under control and closes her eyes, letting the cool breeze graze her cheeks. She reminds herself of who she is, that House Targaryen matters. Her reign over the Seven Kingdom matters. Her voyage across the sea matters. She is the Mother of Dragons, and the North is just another place inhabited by flocks of ignorant sheep who don’t know any better yet. They’ll see, one day, they’ll see she’s the only rightful Queen to follow.

When Dany’s finally about to turn to seek out Jon, her gaze soon falls on Jon’s white beast of a pet, which is now staring right at her. He must have come back from a private hunt. Dany assumes there’s no other reason for him to be roaming alone out here in the Wood instead of being tucked away up inside.

A thick white fur coat and curious red eyes. _Ghost_ , is the name Jon calls him by.

Ghost seems to wondering about her, too. Dany smiles at the thought, and she takes a moment to admire his strange exotic beauty.

Dany recalls Ser Daavos saying that the “ _Winterfell's Direwolves had only served to protect the Starks, or the few people the Starks loved most..._ ”

In silent and prideful awe, Dany gradually steps closer in Ghost’s direction, with hopeful fingers outstretched toward him.

“Hello, Ghost.” The wolf stands alert and attentive, very keen on her movements now. Dany’s smile widens, curling at the corners, thinking this is all too easy compared to raising dragons. “Dearest Jon’s told me about you. We have that in common now.”

Her hand is a mere arm’s length away from Ghost’s head when it happens: he _snaps_ at her, teeth bared and ears pinned back. He does not want the touch of her hand.

Dany immediately backs away on reflex with wide eyes, cradling the hand that nearly got bitten off. She stares back at Ghost accusingly, both in disappointment and shock, before the wolf quickly runs off and retreats towards the castle.

She jumps again when the snow makes a distinctive crunching sound and Ser Jorah is suddenly there, watching out for her, as always. She gulps, and looks away to veil the newfound embarrassment lighting up across her face.

“Wolves, Khaleesi,” he repeats ever so gently, “they cannot ever be fully tamed. Not even by their Queen.”

His statement somehow makes the air around her feel much colder than before.

 

Later that night, as Dany passes the mess hall where some of the Northerners are sharing their supper with Theon’s bannermen, the sight of Lady Sansa leaning over to feed her scraps to Ghost, who lays down by her chair with a paw resting over her feet before taking his prize, does not escape Dany.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
